


BTaS (ish) Shenanigans

by The_Raconteur_24601



Series: Zepheera-Vision [1]
Category: Doctor Who, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Doctor Who g/t, Doctor Who gt, Fluff, G/T, GT, Hurt/Comfort, TINY - Freeform, borrower companion, giant, giant tiny - Freeform, the borrowers crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Raconteur_24601/pseuds/The_Raconteur_24601
Summary: Mostly fun things that may or may not be BTaS canon, in no particular order as far as timelines go.*I do NOT own the GIFs used and do not claim them as my own work*





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet for a first run.

The vessel rumbled and creaked as it settled after the horrible crash. A large tongue of flame burst from the wall dangerously close to where Zepheera had fallen off the Doctor’s shoulder. She shot up and scrambled away from the heat and had just wondered where the Time Lord had gone when–  
  
“Zepheera!” The borrower jumped nearly a full inch as her giant friend’s face suddenly filled her vision. His breaths were short after all the excitement and his eyes darted distractedly around, observing the surrounding destruction before returning to his tiny companion in concern.  
  
“Bloody hell, don’t sneak up on me like that!” she scolded, heart still racing from the scare.  
  
“Sorry.”


	2. I Was Lonely

“Zepheera?”

The borrower in question shot the Doctor a look before ignoring him, carrying on twisting a few pieces of string into a stronger rope.

“Zepheera…” he tried again, licking his lips as though in preparation. “…I need to get up.” Despite himself, a twinge of mirth tugged at his lips.

“Funny, that,” scoffed Zepheera as she looked up from her work. “That’s not what you said two hours ago.”

“But I have to–”

“‘Zepheera, I’m bored. Sit with me, Zepheera. Keep me company.’”

The Doctor sighed, an action that blew the borrower’s already messy bob about. “I know, I know. But I’ve got to check on the experiment, it should be ready by now.”

Zepheera threw up the hand that wasn’t keeping her progress on the rope in place. “Just saying. It’s your own fault for scooping me up and putting me on the pillow _on top of you_.”

“I was lonely,” he shrugged, making Zepheera’s perch shift back and forth slightly.

She regarded the Doctor in contemplation, but after a moment of staring at those big brown puppy-dog eyes her shoulders slumped in defeat. Gathering her work, she slid off the small pillow that she would never _ever_ admit was actually quite comfortable, and made her way up his chest toward his shoulder. 

“One of these days, you’re gonna run out of trump cards,” she informed him, pointing an accusing finger at the Doctor’s stupid grin.


	3. Human Again

“Calm down, John.”

“What? Calm? I _am_ calm. Calm and perfectly…sane. I mean, any normal bloke would just imagine a four inch tall woman telling him he’s actually an alien from outer space. And offering said tiny imaginary woman beans on toast is only polite, logical, and-and-and–” John Smith stammered as the more than slightly burnt toast jumped straight out of the toaster, throwing him off his already flustered rant. He tried to catch the flying bread in a knee-jerk reaction, succeeding only in hurting his fingers and swatting the food across the counter, thankfully away from Zepheera.

“This is crazy!” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air in utter exasperation. With a white-knuckled grip on the counter, he rounded on the self-proclaimed borrower. “More than that–it’s _impossible_! There’s no such thing as aliens, and I’m not even sure if you’re real! Tiny people just _don’t exist_. And even if they…if _you_ are real, then…why me? Why did you have to come to _me_??” John squeezed his eyes shut as though it would make everything go away, anxiously rocking back and forth a little. This was all too much for him to handle at once.

But a light touch brushing against his knuckles made his eyes snap open and focus on Zepheera, who had laid her own tiny hand on his. His breath caught; she had looked small before, but now in direct comparison to his hand he felt so terribly large. He couldn’t help but stare in wonder at how she somehow found the nerve to approach a comparative giant who could hypothetically grab her at any time, one who had been _shouting_ at her not a moment ago. For that, John thought she was an extraordinarily brave figment of his imagination.

“I’m real,” she promised. He watched as she leaned down and took hold of his first finger where it sat curled in a formerly tense fist. She lifted it, uncoiled it, and laid the very tip of it against her cheek, half-leaning against her shoulder. John could feel her soft, fine hair, her miniscule ear, the warmth of her skin, and he could no longer deny her existence. When she saw the recognition in his eyes, she shifted the finger against her shoulder–to sit more comfortably, John could assume.

“I know it doesn’t make sense, but you need to understand that it _had_ to be you. You don’t know it yet, but we’re friends, you and I. I’m supposed to be watching out for you in case of trouble. And I’m afraid, John, that we really, really need to talk.”

Zepheera’s voice was so kind and sincere, and a small part of John could not resist that look in her teeny violet eyes. “Shall I get started on those beans then?”

She smiled, sending a bubble of warmth through John’s heart. He’d made her happy, and for whatever reason he was extremely proud of that. “Yeah, I think you better had. Gonna be a long chat.”

John waited for Zepheera to fully let his finger go before carefully lifting it away and walking to the cabinet by the stove.

“And that’s four and a _half_ inches tall, thanks very much!”

Despite himself, John giggled at the correction.


	4. Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally four parts, compiled here.

“NO.”

The Doctor’s attention snapped from the kitten in his hands to the borrower putting a safe distance between herself and him. “What! I didn’t say anything!” His wide grin belied his indignation.

“You KNOW how I feel about cats, Doctor!” Zepheera glared at the bundle of fur he held as it glanced around meekly. She wasn’t fazed, not even by the little pink bow around its neck. “I thought you _hated_ cats.”

“Oh, don’t listen to ‘er, Jacks,” he cooed, lifting the kitten to his face. “She’s just being grumpy today.”

“No, don’t _name_ it! You are NOT keeping them!”

Her protests went ignored as the Doctor looked fondly down at the other half-dozen kittens circling his feet, crying for his attention. The only solace Zepheera could find in the situation was that they were too young to jump onto the table she currently stood on; and even _then,_ she kept as far from the edges as possible.

Beginning to feel desperate, Zepheera tried a different angle, only slightly emboldened by the barrier of junk between them. “Doctor. If I wanted to bring a Dalek onto the TARDIS, let alone _seven_ , you’d say no. Because the Daleks are _predators_ and would be a threat to AT LEAST one of us!”

Still, the Doctor didn’t respond, lost in the fluffy cuteness that surrounded him.

* * *

“Oh! Hello, little fella,” the Doctor softly greeted the dark, pink-ribboned kitten who’d managed to climb onto his shoulder. It mewed timidly as it looked down from its precarious perch. “Yeah, I bet it does look high,” replied the Time Lord, “but don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

“Doctor, what is a cat doing in my spot?” Zepheera demanded, tired of being continuously ignored.

This time, the Doctor actually spared her an exasperated glance. “Don’t exaggerate, he’s a kitten not a cat. And it’s _my_ shoulder.”

“Where _I_ sit! A lot!”

Another mewling cry escaped the kitten as its balance wavered; it was trying to crawl down the slope of the Doctor’s raised elbow with some difficulty. Its paw slipped and the Doctor’s free hand swung in to catch it before it fell. “Ooh! Careful. See, what’d I tell ya. I’ve got you…” Using both hands to support the small feline, he cradled it close and turned to look down at Zepheera, whose back was pressed firmly against a junk-filled box on the nearby table.

Oblivious of her skeptical scowl, he smiled and said, “Come on, Zepheera, just say hello!”

* * *

“Come on, Zepheera, just say hello!”

The borrower in question stared up at the Doctor with affronted incredulity.

“This isn’t funny anymore, Doctor.” Her voice was so quiet and close to breaking that she finally elicited an emotional response from the Time Lord. He looked confused, but it was _something_ , and she latched on to the chink in the armor she seemed to have found. 

“I dunno if this is just you getting me to try new things or…or forget about my past, but this is just…” She heaved a deep breath to release some of the tension building up in her chest. “Doctor, you know _exactly_ why I have a problem with cats, why a significant part of our friendship hinges on the fact–the _fact–_ that you are not a cat person!”

“I’m _not_ a cat person!” insisted the Doctor, his voice going a bit squeaky in the half-shout. The volume of his voice did nothing to faze Zepheera, who placed her hands on her hips and shot him a disbelieving look. The Doctor blinked, eyes trailing back to the kitten he was still holding and petting.

“ _Well_ …maybe I’m a kitten person.”

Zepheera groaned miserably.

* * *

In the depths of the TARDIS, a black and white tuxedo cat lounged on a table. It had just woken up from a three-hour nap and thoroughly groomed itself when a small grey tabby kitten appeared in front of it, drawing its attention. The kitten mewed at the cat, crying for help as it was lifted even higher. The cat watched lazily as the man underneath the kitten slowly straightened and removed the kitten from his head, staring at the cat owlishly as he did so.

This room, as well as several others throughout the TARDIS, was crawling with cats of varying ages and breeds, the younger ones nipping at the Doctor’s ankles while the older ones kept a nonchalant eye on the Time Lord. Such had been the state of the TARDIS for about a week.

“Doctor!” a hushed voice rang out somewhere above his head. His eyes darted around looking for the source, ending the staring contest between him and the cat–which he rather resembled in his black suit and white button-down.

“Up here!” the voice hissed again, leading him to look up at the air vent high up in the wall above the table. Seeing who was calling him, the Doctor grinned without reaching his eyes.

“Zepheera!” exclaimed the Time Lord, shifting the kitten in his hands to a shoulder as he climbed up onto the table. This put him at perfect eye level with the vent. 

“I haven’t seen you in days!” he remarked, seemingly emotionally unaffected by this fact. “How’ve you been? Are you eating well?” He stuck his fingers through the slats, as though trying to reach the very small woman inside the vent, but they were too big to make it past their second joints. But the borrower, all four and a half inches of her, would make quick work of the small space, he thought absently.

Zepheera scrambled back a few inches deeper into the vent at the approach of his digits. “Don’t do that!” she scolded, masking her fear.

The Doctor blinked slowly, a slight frown pinching just above glazed eyes. The fingers withdrew until their tips rested at the bottom of the vent’s opening, allowing him a place to rest his chin as he peered into the vent. “Zepheera, what’s the matter?”

She had to bite back a scoff at that. It should’ve been rather obvious to him why she was so wary, why she had spent the last few days hiding out in the depths of a ship she’d come to call home, sneaking food from the kitchens the few chances she got. If she were honest, a small part of her had missed living like this, like a proper borrower; but the illusion was broken by the need to hide from her best friend and the legion of cats he’d brought on board.

“I’ve contacted Torchwood,” she informed him rather than answering his question. “Captain Jack Harkness, you once told me he could be trusted. The TARDIS is set to pilot itself to their headquarters as soon as it receives their signal.”

“What’d you do that for?” asked the Doctor, more curious than concerned.

“Because I can’t very well fly this hunk of metal myself, can I?” Zepheera snapped, crossing her arms. “I’ve half a mind to make you teach me, once you’ve _got_ half a mind.”

The Doctor tilted his head, clearly confused, and the little grey tabby mewed and crossed to his other shoulder.

“Look…You’re not yourself, Doctor,” she explained, placing her hands on her hips. “I don’t know if it’s the cats or the planet we were on or something else, but this isn’t you. And I just. Can’t. Handle this. Not on my own.”

For all her efforts to make him understand, she received a pair of big brown puppy-dog eyes in return. “No no, but the cats are friendly!” he insisted, breaking her heart a little more with each word. “I’m sure they’d be friends with you, too, if you’d just–”

He was cut off by the borrower suddenly lunging forward until her little fists slammed into the metal slats of the vent. The Doctor flinched back in surprise, blinking at her sudden outburst. Zepheera forced herself to slow her breathing, calm herself down, remind herself that it wasn’t the Doctor talking–not really.

“I would _never_ befriend a cat!” she practically spat, venom coloring each word. “Not after what happened to Kernel…” Her voice trailed off at the mention of his name, and she squeezed her eyes shut to push back the memories and tears. _He had only been ten years old…_

“Your brother,” the Doctor replied at length.

Zepheera’s head snapped up. “Yes. You remember him, you remember me telling you about that!” Despite the grisly memories this situation had roused, Zepheera smiled for the first time in a week. “It’s still you.”

The Doctor didn’t respond; his brow was knit tightly together, as though he were trying to remember how exactly he knew what he’d said. Before he could even think about answering the borrower, the TARDIS rumbled and the familiar sound of the engines in flight rang throughout the beautiful machine.

“That’ll be Jack,” she remarked, backing away from the vent slowly. “I have to go. We’ll be there soon, and I’ve got to show them where you are.” Having warned him fairly, she turned to go.

“Wait!” the Doctor called after her. “Why won’t you come out? It’s all _they_ want, and it’s all _I_ want, so would you just…come out? Please? You don’t have to hide.”

Zepheera kept walking despite the chillingly familiar words, never once breaking her stride. “I’ll stop hiding once you understand why I have to.”


	5. Backseat Driver

“ _Must_ you drive with your feet?” complained Zepheera as she clung to a hopefully useless doodad on the console, eyeing the red Chuck Taylor that had landed a little too close for comfort. “Not to be rude or anything, I just can’t help but feel slightly at risk here!”

“Oh, always the backseat drivers…” the Doctor muttered through clenched teeth. But he peered through the loops of cable at Zepheera, careful to know where she was at all times in order to avoid… _incidents_ , he thought with a glance at his shoe. “For your information, it takes six pilots to fly this ship properly, and considering I failed my test, I think I manage quite well, thanks very–!”

He was cut off when a rumble of turbulence shook the TARDIS. With the extra leverage of his propped-up foot, the Doctor managed to keep his balance. Zepheera was not quite so lucky, as the tremor was much greater to her. Her feet were thrown out from under her and she slipped over the edge of the raised section of the console that she had thought _for sure_ would be safer. As her grip tightened on her handhold to prevent her from being thrown off the console altogether, she reconsidered her chain of logic.

“Zepheera?” called the Doctor after losing sight of his four-inch-tall companion. He hurried around to the panel where he’d last seen her, letting out a relieved breath when she appeared unhurt. Even so, while his left hand turned a crank and several dials, his right scooped up Zepheera and lifted her to his shoulder. “How ‘bout we try this?” It was still early days for the pair of them, and neither had ever lived so closely with someone of such a dramatic size difference before.

But they were learning. Zepheera didn’t have time to be cross about being picked up without warning because the Doctor was already on the move. She clung to his collar as the Time Lord dashed about, and through trial and error she found a stable position in shoving her legs under his lapel and anchoring her feet against his neck. 

Once she felt secure, Zepheera actually thought this wasn’t so bad. Sure, riding on a giant’s shoulder was nerve-wracking, not to mention he moved at a borderline dizzying rate. But at least up here, she wouldn’t have to worry about any flying converse.


	6. Her Business

“But what _is_ she?” asked one of the scientists to the Doctor in an aside.

The Time Lord looked up from the sample he was examining through a microscope at the woman in a white coat addressing him, glancing at the shelf on the other side of the room where his four-inch-tall companion stood scrutinizing racks of test tubes. They knew one of them was wrong, and she volunteered to find out which out of the 75 tubes it was since her eyes wouldn’t tire as easily as any of the human scientists’ would looking at the miniscule labels.

Turning back to the scientist, he gave a sniff and replied, “I rather think that’s _her_ business to share, not mine. Although,” he added as he focused back on the microscope, “to be fair, if you asked she probably wouldn’t tell you.”

“And why’s that?” the scientist hissed, sounding affronted.

“Cause you’re human!” exclaimed the Doctor, not bothering to look up from the microscope this time. “Would you trust somebody who looks as big as you do to her right off?”

Her gaze wandered over to the impossibly tiny woman still searching tirelessly through the test tubes, and she heaved a resigned sigh. She supposed she wouldn’t. Rather than admit that, however, she pressed on. “But she trusts _you_ , and you’re taller than I am!”

“ _Well_ , you’ve got me there.” The Doctor straightened to his full height–a full head taller than the female scientist–adjusting his crisp royal blue suit. “Little over sixteen times her height, I’m surely terrifying. In’t that right, Zepheera?”

His tiny companion’s head snapped up at the mention of her name, only to find the Doctor crossing the room right toward the shelf she was standing on. After all this time, it still blew her mind how fast someone so large could move. 

“I’m just as scary as any mean ol’ human, eh?” he smirked, pulling a teasingly startling ‘rawr’ face close to the eye-level shelf as he passed the borrower and moved on to fetch whatever he was after. 

Zepheera flinched at the sudden lack of space, but shot an exasperated look through the back of her friend’s head. She went about her business, muttering about what a giant ten-year-old her Time Lord was as she worked.


	7. A Tight Fit

“See anything yet, Zepheera?”

The borrower in question rolled her eyes as the felt a series of rumbles through the hardwood floor that seemed to indicate the Doctor was crouching down to check on her _already_. It had only been a few seconds since she’d been sent down into this small gap to investigate for clues. A glance over her shoulder gave her a narrow view of her Time Lord flattened on the ground with one eye shut tight and the opposite eyebrow raised high, as though it would give him a greater insight on Zepheera’s perspective. 

“Doctor, we’ve been over this, you can’t fit down here.”

“Yeah, but I can’t help being curious!” he declared defensively. “Last place anybody sees the big old mysterious being is disappearing through this tiny little gap, which should be impossible given its size!” 

Depending on how it had been done, such a change might have left behind some sort of residue that would assist the pair of time travelers in knowing what exactly they were up against. On the other hand, if the person or creature had simply made themselves smaller, then Zepheera could be at risk where she now stood.

Well, more like _crouched_. Even for her, standing at four and a half inches tall, it was a bit of a tight fit. In any case, the Doctor had to be ready to help her despite the fact that his hand wouldn’t be able to reach more than a few inches into such a small space.

Zepheera bit back a huff, placing her hands on her hips as she backed away from the Doctor. They’d been together for months doing this exact kind of thing on a near daily basis, and she’d thought the Doctor trusted her more than what he seemed to be demonstrating. But just as she was about to tell him exactly what she thought, she felt and heard her foot sink into some gelatinous mystery fluid with a sickening _squelch_. She jumped away from it with a cry of disgust, shaking as much of it off her foot as possible.

“Found something,” she muttered to the Doctor through a clenched jaw.


	8. Basically Just a Rabbit

_“Doctor!”_

The Time Lord’s head snapped up from his dinging machine at the sound of Zepheera’s cry. He berated himself for getting talked into splitting up to look for the Zygon as he ran off toward the voice. Sure, his four and a half inch tall companion could take care of herself in ways that still surprised him, but could she hold her own against a Zygon? A big, red, rubbery thing covered in suckers that was at least a foot taller than the average human? The thought pushed him to run faster.

He almost blew straight past Zepheera, skidding to a halt when she called out, “Over here!” Simultaneously, a signal on his machine flared up, and he turned sharply to look down at a moss-covered stump. Zepheera stood in the shadow of what looked like a floppy-eared rabbit. The Doctor noticed her arms were raised, he assumed in defense, but failed to catch sight of the wide grin across her lips.

“Oh, very clever,” he mused, collapsing the machine’s antenna and approaching slowly to loom over the rabbit which he was now convinced was a Zygon.

“Whatever you’ve got planned, forget it,” he warned darkly. “I’m the Doctor. I’m nine hundred and four years old.”

Catching on to the Doctor’s train of thought and realizing her mistake, Zepheera tried to interrupt him. “Doctor–”

But he barreled right along: “I’m from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous.” The rabbit briefly turned its head to look up at the Time Lord as he neared before returning to nuzzling its little pink nose into a clump of moss next to Zepheera. “I am the oncoming storm, the bringer of darkness, and if you hurt so much as a hair on my friend’s head I will–”

“Doctor, shut up!” Zepheera shouted, and the Doctor did just that, staring incredulously at her. Her cheeks were hot from the embarrassment of the misunderstanding that she’d partially caused. “It’s not a Zygon,” she explained. “I checked. He just sort of bounded right up to me and…I dunno, at the moment it was cute.”

The Doctor crouched next to the stump. “So…basically just a rabbit, then?”

“Yup.”

“I thought you were in trouble!” he groused.

Zepheera gave a false gasp. “My deepest apologies, your majesty!”

“Oh, don’t start that again!” She had already given him enough grief for accidentally getting engaged to Queen Elizabeth not an hour ago, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.


	9. I Don't Wanna Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-imagining of the Tenth Doctor's regeneration with Zepheera

Zepheera waited patiently for the Doctor to return to the TARDIS. This was his last stop, his last chance to see Rose Tyler, so it was understandable that he would be taking his time. But as the minutes dragged on, she began to wander the console aimlessly, wondering if something had happened to him.

A voice came to her head, giving her pause. They were singing in Latin. She had no idea where the song was coming from, but somehow she knew every word as they came, and who it was all for.

She didn’t realize she’d been singing along until the doors of the TARDIS opened and closed heavily, and she held her tongue. The Doctor leaned wearily on the doors. After a breath or two, he made his way up the slight incline to the main platform of the room, relying on the short railing. This alone sent an icy pang of worry through Zepheera’s stomach. 

The way he moved, even in an action as simple as shedding his coat and tossing it onto its typical support, made it clear to her that everything hurt. He hesitated, lifting his right hand to eye level. Regeneration energy flowed from it as he turned his wrist, watching golden streaks dance around his fingers. After a moment he curled the hand into a loose fist and let it hang by his side, turning to the console to lock eyes with his four and a half inch tall companion.

It wouldn’t be long now, and they both knew it.

“So…What happens now?” The borrower knew well enough by now the technical details of regeneration, but she wasn’t sure if she should say something meaningful or sing that song that was still going in the back of her head. She didn’t know if a goodbye was in order since he’d still be the Doctor at the end of the day, just a little different.

The Doctor made his way laboriously around the console, passing Zepheera by entirely. “Now…I’m taking you home,” he said steadily.

Zepheera followed him, frowning in confusion. Disregarding the fact that she didn’t _have_ a home outside the TARDIS, she went straight for the important question.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

This stopped him in his tracks and he sighed deeply, lowering his gaze to the floor. “No, Zepheera, it’s not like that.”

“Then why can’t I stay?” she demanded.

“Because it’s not safe!” he snapped. He paused to catch his breath from the short outburst, then lowered himself to a kneel with evident effort. Then his brown eyes met her small deep violets. “I can feel it, Zepheera. I dunno how, but this one’s gonna be violent, I just know it. For all I know, I could destroy everything, and…I don’t want to risk you.”

Zepheera considered his words, never breaking eye contact. After a deep breath, she crossed her arms and planted her feet on the uneven surface of the console.

“I’ll be careful then,” she asserted. “You shouldn’t be alone for this. I always told you I’d be here for you, no matter what. That I’d never be afraid of you. I don’t care if you change your face, Doctor, I’m keeping that bloody promise.”

Even so, the Doctor looked conflicted, and his gaze wandered indecisively.

In the silence between them, Zepheera noticed the song in her head gaining momentum. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, she joined in with the chorus once again.

_“Vale decem…”_

The Doctor’s attention snapped back to the borrower. “You hear it, too,” he realized.

In answer, Zepheera smiled sadly as she sang. The words, though foreign to her, were a perfect representation of her feelings. It was a farewell, but also a comfort. The Doctor returned the smile and pushed himself to his feet. Clearly her mind would not be changed. And honestly, she was right. He needed the company.

_Nunquam singularis…_

He pulled the lever to send the TARDIS flying into orbit above the Earth. That gorgeous noise filled the air alongside the sound of the universe singing the Doctor to his sleep.

_Nunquam…_

He glanced down to find tears streaming down his small friend’s face, reaching a gentle hand to wipe them away. Zepheera, still singing, trembled at this contact, and before he could pull his finger away she grabbed hold of it, pulling it into a tight embrace.

_Dum spiro fido…_

It was only when his hand began to glow again that he pulled it away from her grasp. He ruffled her hair with a finger like he always used to, but without the usual humor, and walked to the other side of the console to separate himself from her. Zepheera just barely refrained from following, heeding his earlier warning, but as the chorus in her mind repeated _vale_ over and over, she circled the other way to see his face one last time before it disappeared.

His breaths were shallow and his eyes were shining. “I don’t wanna go,” he declared, a small tremble in his voice. Regeneration energy surrounded his face and flowed from his hands with ever-growing intensity.

The song was over.


	10. I Look Good

Zepheera stared.

Contrary to the Doctor’s worries, she wasn’t remotely interested in Captain Jack Harkness in any romantic sense or…otherwise. She’d only just met the man. The only thing she was curious about was his apparent inability to die. For as long as she could remember, Zepheera couldn’t seem to age. So in a way she and Jack were quite similar.

As fate would have it, an opportunity arose for Jack to make use of his ability. There was a room filled with incendiary radiation that sat underneath a rocket ship which was prepared to ferry the last of the human race to a paradise at the end of the universe that they called Utopia. The radiation had already killed one technician who was connecting the couplings that would get the ship off the ground. Now it was up to Jack, the only man who could enter that room without dying.

Zepheera had tagged along at the last second, eager to watch this bizarre ability firsthand. But the next thing she knew, Jack was undressing. She was most definitely not attracted to him, she was adamant about that. But watching someone sixteen times her height move so quickly, even doing something as simple as removing his shirt, was undeniably fascinating to the four and a half inch tall borrower.

She jumped when the Doctor popped into her view, checking over the radiation levels and the other readings on the control panel. He hadn’t yet noticed Jack. It occurred to her that the radiation he would be subjected to wouldn’t affect the clothing he was stripping off, so she regained her composure and cleared her throat.

“Er, Jack?” she piped up, still a little timid around this new giant.

The Doctor glanced Jack’s way, only to double-take once it sank in.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m going in,” Jack reminded him.

“But–from what I can tell, the radiation doesn’t affect clothing, only flesh,” said the Doctor.

“I look good, though.”

With a smirk at the Doctor and a wink at Zepheera, Jack pulled his braces back on and strode purposefully into the radiation-ridden room. Thankfully, only his wool coat and button-down had been removed.


	11. Ow...

Zepheera groaned as the dull aches all over her body slowly dwindled. The four and a half inch tall woman sat up haltingly, still dazed from the impact. The last thing she remembered, she’d been on the Doctor’s shoulder as they crept along an ominously quiet corridor. Out of nowhere, the Doctor was shoved to the ground. It had happened too quickly for Zepheera to see what had caused it, or to stop herself from being thrown off the shoulder and tumbling across the floor.

She looked up to find the Doctor still flat on his back, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He seemed stunned, almost _affronted_ by the attack.

“You alright, Doctor?” she called, managing to her feet. Her healing ability had taken care of potential bruises and scrapes, but her joints still felt stiff as she stretched them.

“Oww…” he moaned. He let out a grunt of effort as he propped himself up with one elbow, running the opposite hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor with a wince. The Time Lord may have been sturdier than a human, but he couldn’t heal as quickly as Zepheera. He muttered, “Blimey, that was a doozy.”

Zepheera tilted her head back as her friend straightened, towering over her even as he sat. But after all their time spent traveling together, it had been a long time since the borrower was afraid of her Time Lord. “We should get moving,” she advised with a nervous glance around. “Before whatever that was comes back.

The Doctor nodded, placing a hand flat on the floor for her. Ever determined, Zepheera ran up the slope of the Doctor’s arm as far as she could go, climbing the rest of the way back to his shoulder. This time, she made sure she had a firm grip on his collar.


	12. U.N.I.T

“Y’know, I _do_ have a life outside of work,” griped the Doctor as several officers led him through the crowded halls.

For his tiny companion’s part, Zepheera kept close to the Doctor’s neck. The borrower often rode on his shoulder, but it wasn’t often he was called in to U.N.I.T. The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce had employed the Doctor as an alien expert decades ago for them, centuries ago for him. Time travel didn’t stop them from summoning him unexpectedly, and since it was usually when the world was in danger, the Doctor continually felt obligated to come.

Zepheera was usually wary around humans or other humanoid creatures she and the Doctor encountered; it was only natural, given she was four and a half inches tall. But these UNIT folk… they were both scientific and militaristic. Half of them carried guns and the other half carried clipboards, and Zepheera had deep reservations about such people. But they thankfully ignored her, apart from a few confused or curious glances.

The Doctor was led in to a room with very large screens and a set of very important-looking people. All except a shorter, dark-skinned woman saluted the Time Lord as he entered. Rolling his eyes, the Doctor smiled at his old friend.

“Doctor Jones, pleasure as always.”

Martha nodded, grinning at Zepheera who already felt more at ease with someone she recognized.

“Alright, what’s the dealio this time?” the Doctor sighed as he sank into a computer chair, propping his feet up. Zepheera jumped up and darted across the Doctor’s body, grateful for a path to a solid surface. The Doctor was prone to fidgets when agitated, which he often was at UNIT. People with guns put him off.

One of the Important People stared at Zepheera as she slowed her pace to carefully navigate the folds of fabric and the awkward angles of the Doctor’s crossed legs. “What is _that?”_ he demanded.

“She’s with me,” said the Doctor, brushing it off.

“But it’s–!”

“He said, _she’s_ with him,” Martha cut in emphatically. “They travel together, and I can assure you she’s more than clever enough to keep up and keep secrets.”

The Important Person resigned himself after seeing the scathing looks from both Martha and the Doctor. “Very well… Our officers found something that might be of interest to you, Doctor.” The screen before them brightened as it turned on, displaying an incredible image just as Zepheera hopped past the Doctor’s Converse and onto the table. “Can you identify it?”

Zepheera stared in awe at the screen, then turned to look at the Doctor through the gap in his shoes. He gave a pout and shook his head. “I dunno,” he answered, though Zepheera suspected he was being less than honest. He did enjoy messing with the tightwads that worked for UNIT on occasion.


	13. Pears

Zepheera’s mind reeled. She and the Doctor had gone in search of someplace in the universe to relax and have a good time, and as usual ended up running for their lives. Zepheera hardly understood what was going on, but as the Doctor piloted the TARDIS away to buy precious time before their pursuers could catch up, he explained what he needed to do.

The Doctor needed to become human and lay low on Earth.

Before Zepheera could even begin to ask how he would accomplish that, he started rattling off a list of things she would need to do to take care of him. She gaped at him from her spot on the console, wondering how in the world he expected a four-inch-tall woman to _take care_ of a six-foot-one human.

“And five, very important, five,” the Doctor emphasized, breaking Zepheera out of her thoughts. “Don’t let me eat pears. I _hate_ pears!”

“How exactly am I supposed to accomplish that without being seen?” she huffed. That was back in Number two in his instructions; at least she and the Doctor agreed that they couldn’t predict how this human version of him would react to a tiny woman. He wouldn’t be the Doctor anymore, so she was encouraged to take precautions.

The Doctor shrugged. “I dunno, steal them if I – er, _he_ – purchases any!”

“We’ve been over this,” Zepheera frowned, “I _don’t_ steal.”

“C’mon, for me!” the Doctor pleaded, pulling his puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, you’re always clever like that.”

Zepheera rolled her eyes, knowing full well that he was buttering her up and hating that it was working. “Number six?” she sighed.


	14. Check This!

“Hey–Wait a sec!”

The Doctor froze as his tiny companion piped up from his shoulder. By the time he glanced over to look at Zepheera, she’d clambered over the edge of his shoulder and started climbing down his arm with the obvious intention of reaching the floor this way.

“Wha–?” he gasped; the borrower he traveled with had no qualms about using the Doctor as a jungle gym in the past, and he usually didn’t mind, but she’d never tried to do it while he was _standing_ , let alone walking around.

Without warning, he twisted his arm around front to see his companion. Zepheera gave a startled cry as she lost her grip on the pinstriped fabric of his suit, scrambling until her feet touched down on the inside of the Doctor’s bent elbow. She shot a glare up at him after the surprise wore off, rolling her eyes as his brow shot up like he didn’t know what she was upset about.

The Doctor turned his hand to face palm-up to make up for it, and Zepheera begrudgingly jogged along his forearm to stand on it like a platform. From there, he carefully lowered himself to the floor and let her off nearby. She hopped off immediately, excitement filling each of her four and a half inches.

“Check this!” she called up, darting across the floor toward a small object that the Doctor had nearly walked right past. Crouching near the strange item, Zepheera looked expectantly up at the Doctor. He was the expert on alien things, and she had no doubt that this fell into that category. “This what we’re looking for?”

“Could be,” the Doctor conceded as he dug through the inside pocket of his suit. He whipped out his spectacles and threw them on before leaning in for a closer look at what Zepheera had found.

“Why do you do that?” asked Zepheera as she backed off a few inches to give the Doctor room to inspect her find. “You don’t seem to need those.”

“Sure I do!” the Time Lord protested, looking utterly offended.

Zepheera put her hands on her hips. “No, you don’t! You’re just wasting a few seconds so you can look a bit clever.”

The Doctor shot her a look, caught between a glare and a pout.


	15. Heat of Battle

“Zepheera!”

The borrower blinked hard, dazed. The voice– her Time Lord’s voice was loud but distant to her ears. barely breaking through the ringing that filled her head. Heat and smoke surrounded her, along with rough blurry shapes, some stationary and looming and others towering and moving _fast_.

It came back to Zepheera in pieces; landing in the middle of a battle, being separated from the TARDIS and then from the Doctor. Something hit Zepheera, knocking the breath out of her as she tumbled to the ground. Everything was chaos, and the Doctor was calling her name.

“Zepheera!!”

He was getting closer, she could tell. His voice was louder, and the ground beneath her started to tremble with more rhythmic force that the nearly constant low rumble of the battle. Zepheera blinked again and tried to sit up, but she was pinned from the waist down by a chunk of rubble. The pressure dawned on her, and she gave a pained moan, coughing involuntarily.

Zepheera had always been able to heal remarkably fast, but she was not invulnerable. If she was hurt badly enough, she would certainly die. And at four and a half inches tall, to say that this was a useful ability would be an understatement. The fact that she was still alive despite the weight on her waist and legs was a good sign.

“Doctor!” she croaked, propping herself on her elbows and craning her neck to find her giant friend. She bit back a wince as more tremors– footsteps getting closer and closer– aggravated her lower body wounds. It was worth it to see the shape of her friend come into view.

But he didn’t see her right away. His hearing was usually accurate to the point of being uncanny. In the chaos of battle, however, everything was thrown out of balance. He knew better than to wander aimlessly, but Zepheera’s heart sank at how _panicked_ he looked, eyes manic as they searched desperately for his tiny companion.

“Where are you?!” he shouted over the commotion. The battle was escalating, and the Doctor and Zepheera were both unarmored and unarmed.

“Down here!” she yelled back, waving one arm widely and doing her best to be as visible as possible.

The Doctor’s eyes finally landed on her, and he quickly hunched protectively over her as he removed the debris pinning her down. Naturally, he fretted over the state of her legs, but Zepheera assured them that they were starting to heal; she could feel it the moment she aligned the bones. The larger of the two needed to focus on getting the both of them to safety.


	16. Happy New Year

_Krrk-krrk-krrk-krrk-krrk!_

Out of seven likenesses of Zepheera, six fell to their knees writhing in pain as the Doctor sauntered into the room with a noise maker. The one that wasn’t an alien brightened and hurried to join her friend.

Being four and a half inches tall, she naturally crossed the room at a much slower rate than the Time Lord, and suddenly he was standing over her, the noise maker still going on. Ever aware of his borrower companion, the Doctor came to a stop when she approached him, staring pointedly at the alien doubles of Zepheera as he continued to spin his strange weapon against them.

“I think you got em!” Zepheera called up, glancing back at her copies. Most of them had fallen unconscious from the sensory overload their extremely sensitive ears were experiencing. Looking back at the Doctor, he gave the noise maker a few last turns for good measure, then bent down to offer a hand to his tiny friend.

“And a happy new year,” he quipped, lifting her to her usual spot on his shoulder.


	17. Try the Chips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sort of_ technically Martha AU since it takes place in the series 3 finale, but I don't have enough content in that direction as of late for it to constitute its own AU

Zepheera was utterly exhausted.

While _technically_ her companions did all the running from the Master’s threats, the four and a half inch tall woman was in an equal state of adrenaline, hanging on tight to her Time Lord’s collar in order to not be thrown off in all the chaos.

Hours later, she sat on Captain Jack Harkness’ shoulder, mostly so she could speak more directly to the Doctor for once. They had finally reached a place of safety, and the captain just returned with hastily scavenged food, a few bags of chips.

Jack lifted a chip to his shoulder, smirking at the pun while Zepheera took it. She eyed it suspiciously; she didn’t often have access to fried food, and when she did it was usually old and mushy and a real hassle for a borrower to eat.

When she expressed her concern, the Doctor vouched for the chips. “Actually, they’re not bad,” he said, munching on another. “Go on, give it a try.”

With a thoughtful frown at the chip in her lap, nearly tall enough to reach Zepheera’s shoulder, she gave a shrug and broke off a small portion of the tip. If she didn’t like it after all, she could always give whatever she didn’t finish to one of the humans.

She gave it a small nibble, and soon found herself finishing her portion, breaking off another piece for seconds.

* * *


	18. A Little Too Much

“Blimey, you’re a lightweight…” muttered the Doctor, bracing a hand on the console as he dropped to his knees.

“Oi, zip it!” Zepheera called up irritably through the grate of the floor she’d fallen through moments ago. It was one of those rare special occasions that inspired the Doctor to unearth perfectly aged alien wines for his companion and himself to enjoy. Zepheera simply lacked the uncanny Time Lord ability to control just how drunk she got. “I am four and a half inches tall and haven’t touched the stuff in nearly thirty years, I’m the _definition_ of lightweight!”

The Doctor grumbled as he reached down for the handle that would lift up the panel, uncovering his tiny companion sitting on a trunk and staring up at him with her arms crossed.

“Well. Now you know where the floor is. And that it has holes in it.”

“I hate you,” murmured Zepheera, offering no further protest as the Doctor reached down to retrieve his friend.

“I know.”


	19. The Last Color

Zepheera would never understand how one could simply drain an entire planet of color, but according to the Doctor it was an extremely malicious procedure. Once every single thing was dulled to black and white, total corrosion of the planet would begin.

When the Time Lord and his four and a half inch tall companion arrived, they were one of the few things left in the area that were not black and white. However, it didn’t take long for them and even the TARDIS to become monochromatic. It was a race against the clock to find the machine instigating the calamitous procedure and shut it down so they could even begin to reverse it.

Zepheera clung to the Doctor’s shoulder as he ran through the alien spaceship, nearing the motherboard that could shut down the entire thing and restore the planet to its original state. Desperately, he fished out his sonic screwdriver and gave it a quick buzz, relieved to find it glowing blue. The last color in the world.


	20. An Old Doctor

From her perch on top of the railing around the console, Zepheera watched the two human-sized men across the room. She knew better than anyone that neither of them were human, and in fact, they were the same man.

The TARDIS had gone berserk, throwing the four and a half inch tall woman off the Doctor’s shoulder and halfway across the room. She was thankfully unharmed, but it didn’t take long to notice the entirely new presence. At first Zepheera scrambled to hide from the stranger, but when the Doctor seemed to recognize this man, her wariness shifted to confusion.

This was only magnified when the new man referred to himself as the Doctor, and was seemingly unaware that he was face to face with a future incarnation of his.

Rather than clearing up the confusion and introducing his tiny companion, Zepheera’s Doctor was entirely caught up in his nostalgia and the excitement of the impending crisis. Zepheera had never seen someone so entirely pleased to meet himself.

She’d have to introduce herself, she determined as she dashed across the thick pipe of the railing.


End file.
